Spawn
by Watcher321
Summary: In a world where Spawn are a rare occurrence, and liked even less, a lone farmer on the edge of nowhere finds himself trying to handle an unexpected visitor.
1. The Visitor

Greetings, fellow minecraftians! Okay, I'm sorry I haven't updated my story, ProjectMOBS… ha, yeah, I am not a reliable source for updates. It's happen soon enough, please bear with me. Either way, please enjoy! If you like it (i.e give me three reviews) I'll post more chapters. Written mostly for fluff, and to experiment a little...

Also, I DO NOT OWN MINECRAFT OR ANY RIGHTS THEREOF. ONLY MY OCs.

Farmer Brown was an ordinary villager who lived a mostly ordinary life on his farm near the edge of nowhere. He lived about two week's travel from any major city, and several days from the closest village. With little but his donkey, Bret, for company, he tended his farm in peace and solitude.

The farmer had built himself a lovely little cottage in the crook of a hill, with his barn almost twenty blocks away. He was walking to this now, in the wee hours of dawn, and kept his pitchfork handy (it was time to change the cow's straw.) He shook it warily at the early-morning zombies being burnt to a crisp. Luckily, they had bigger problems, and the smell of rotten flesh filled the cool air as he made it to the barn door uninterrupted.

The farmer was quite proud of his barn, made of a mix of birch wood and oak logs from the forest nearby. He had built it himself by hand after losing far too many sheep to wolves and the ever-present horrors of night.

Farmer Brown's robes swished around his ankles as he threw the barn door open and was greeted by the warm light of torches hung carefully away from the highly combustible straw.

Speaking of the straw…

He had a visitor.

Farmer Brown shifted uneasily for several minutes, watching the sleeping form nestled amongst the hay bales he had so carefully grown and harvested over the years. It was a spawn, probably taken shelter in his barn to escape the nightly hostiles.

The farmer had heard of spawn; they were very different from villagers, and even from normal humans, whom they resembled closely in appearance. Nobody really knew where they came from, and no spawn had ever elected to tell them.

He fingered his pitchfork carefully, unsure of what to do. The farmer had never actually encountered one, even living so close to the wilderness they loved. Spawn were a rare occurrence, and their secrecy made them rarer. He had never actually been told what to do when encountering one; especially if said one was sleeping on his straw pile.

Given it was sleeping for the moment, the farmer bent closer to take a better look. This particular spawn was wearing a green jacket with what looked to be a brown shirt underneath, and had a mop of well-trimmed black hair. If it really was a spawn. Farmer Brown was not sure, but when he first saw it something had simply told him: 'spawn.'

Suddenly, one of Brown's old cows gave a gigantic "MOOO!" and bellowed. His head snapped to the culprit and he gave it a heated glare, but when he turned back, Farmer Brown's veins turned to ice, and any heat in his gaze was lost.

The spawn had woken up.

They sat there in silence for several minutes, Brown too nervous to move lest he provoke the spawn and feeling himself carefully scrutinized as black eyes met emerald.

Brown was uneducated in much other than farming, fishing, both peaceful and hostile mobs and the market, but he had heard rumors. Lots of rumors. Rumors about people who had been attacked by hostile spawn (they were separated into hostile and peaceful categories, but these tended to change on a daily basis.) Rumors about how unpredictable they were; about their insane endurance and ability to summon items from thin air. All of the terrifying things he'd heard flooded his head as they stared at each other.

Neither person, spawn or villager, made a move, so finally Farmer Brown coughed and regained his composure. "Get off my straw."

 _No, you idiot, he'll kill you!_ The farmer immediately regretted his words once they left his mouth. Then his eyes were drawn to the pitchfork in his hand.

The spawn followed his gaze to the lethal tool in Brown's hand, and slid off the hay pile and struggled to his feet.

It was then Brown noticed the limp. His visitor was limping badly, and the yellow straw where his leg had lain was dyed red. He turned to follow his movements, pitchfork at the ready. The spawn obviously knew it was to wounded to fight, because it slumped against the barn wall and a glowing iron sword appeared in its right hand. Farmer Brown received a look that obviously meant _don't mess with me or else._

After discovering that he was in no immediate danger, the farmer released a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. He turned back to the hay and began to sift it into piles for the animals, purposely avoiding the dried red patch. The entire time he kept one eye on his visitor, and he could tell the spawn was doing the same.


	2. BOOM!

Thanks to all who reviewed, and please enjoy another chapter! By the way, has anyone ever wondered what Clerics actually do with the rotten flesh we sell them?

I DO NOT OWN MINECRAFT, ONLY MY OCs.

 **BOOM!**

Several days went by and the spawn in Farmer Brown's barn mostly kept to himself. Each morning Brown would open the door, and when this happened the spawn would either be sleeping or would move out of the farmer's way. It was odd, to say the least, but as long as he wasn't attacking the animals Brown was okay with it. During his daily chores he observed the spawn, and had once stumbled upon him bandaging his leg in the loft.

The wound was gruesome, to say the least, with long, jagged tears oozing pus. It looked like his visitor had been mauled by a spider or somesuch mob, and obviously wasn't walking any time soon.

This particular morning Brown opened his barn door to let the sheep out to graze, and found the black-haired man literally asleep on top of his donkey. Bret, never one to pick a fight, had simply stood there chewing cud. How and why the spawn decided to sleep there, Brown did not want to know. He locked the sheep in their pen and looked back warily, fingering his pitchfork. The villager had not put the tool down since the arrival three nights ago.

That evening Brown was just laying his head down to rest, wrapped comfortably in his red sheets, when a large explosion rocked the night.

The villager rushed into the night, pitchfork at the ready, and followed the smoke and soft orange glow rising from the hole in his barn.

Bret was panic-stricken and just short of knocking his stall over, braying frantically. The cows were mooing and absolute pandemonium had erupted as the sheep, which were penned right next to the barn, streamed from the hole in the fence.

Brown was unsure where to begin, he did not have the materials to fix even a makeshift fence, and the cows' screams were making his head spin. Unable to take the pressure, he roared.

"WHAT CAUSED THIS!?"

Suddenly a small cough drew his attention some distance to the left, where the spawn was on one knee next to the smoking crater, hacking what sounded like shards of glass in his lungs. He looked to barely be standing, indeed he _wasn't_ standing anyway. Brown hefted his pitchfork and advanced on the intruder.

"YOU!" He roared, any thought for his own safety abandoned in his rage. "You blew up my barn! I knew I should've taken care of you when I had the chance!"

The spawn glanced his direction, eyes wide, then his expression changed and they narrowed into focused slits. He rose unsteadily to his feet and the glowing sword from several days previous appeared in his hand. "You wanna fight?" He rasped. The farmer was taken aback by this; he had not expected a response. The spawn hadn't said a word the entire time he'd been here. Brown narrowed his eyes and hissed in frustration.

"I'll be back." He warned, scrambling over the crater and taking Bret in a lead, still kicking. He slapped a saddle on the donkey's back and a satchel he kept for emergencies, and rode away into the night.

Admittedly, riding into the night was not the smartest decision Farmer Brown had ever made. Luckily Bret's adrenaline kept him going just as fast as a horse, and the mobs of zombies hungry for flesh were quickly left behind. It was not until dawn that both the farmer's rage and Bret's fear began to dissipate, and by the time the sun was up they were plodding along at a leisurely pace.

"Well." The farmer sighed heavily. "What will I do now?" He spoke to Bret, gently patting the animal's side. Brown did not normally ride Bret, and never as hard as last night, but the donkey had carried thousands of pounds of goods in his day, indeed still did, and was no worse for wear. If anything Farmer Brown and his satchel were far lighter than the usual load.

Normally a ride to the nearest village took a three to four day journey, but the fact that Brown wasn't walking, combined with their race through the night and Bret's lack of a load cut the time by almost half, and the lights of the village came into view near dawn the following night.

The villager had been asleep on the back of the donkey after finding that Bret's kicks were more than enough to keep most of the mobs at bay. He woke as the sun began to literally burn away the remnants of night.

The village sat squarely in the middle of a large field with a river running through it. It was a small settlement, but not the smallest, and could afford a hefty golem that carefully watched the perimeter. Most of their trade came from small boats traveling up and down the waterway.

Farmer Brown directed Bret through the busy gravel streets and tied him carefully at the gatepost to the monastery's generous yard. It was mostly a cobble building, mixed with chiseled stone and mossy brick, with a bell tower at one corner and a church at the other.

The farmer pulled a string tied to a small bell on the gatepost and rang it repeatedly until a lanky kid in purple robes came running.

"Is Father Jonathan here?" Brown asked. He was answered with a nod and led to a modest office, the walls of which were made entirely of book cases. An aging man in purple garb, trimmed with gold to indicate status, sat reading at the desk. He looked up as Brown entered and nodded once to the skinny boy. "Thank you Nate. We'll be alright on our own."

The child bowed awkwardly and shut the door behind him.

Brown stood respectfully as Father Jonathan put his book away. The elder rose and greeted the farmer with a bear hug. "Brown! What brings you to our village this time of year?" He was invited to sit and did so. Farmer Brown took a deep breath and blurted out,

"What do you know about Spawn?"


	3. History Lesson

Okay, this one's basically world setup, but it's important world setup. I tried to keep it interesting. (I think these are growing progressively longer.) Review, Favorite or Follow, anything to let me know I should keep going! Have a great day guys!

I DO NOT OWN MINECRAFT OR ANY RIGHTS THEREOF, I ONLY OWN MY OCs.

 **History Lesson**

The father frowned thoughtfully. "I am no expert, but as part of our study, I am required to know about the history of all native creatures of our kingdom. What would you like to know?"

"Anything you can tell me." Brown answered honestly. "Where they're from, how they work," The villager paused, then muttered under his breath, "How to get rid of one…" Father Jonathan did not seem to notice, as he had stood and began to search through his many shelves of books. Brown sat quietly and watched the wax slowly drip down the candle on Father Jonathan's desk until he came back bearing three decently hefty volumes.

"Brown, can you read?" Jonathan asked. Startled by the directness of the question, the farmer shook his head and fiddled with his sleeve anxiously.

"No matter." Jonathan smiled gently. "How much do you know about the history of our kingdom?"

"Very little." Farmer Brown admitted.

"In order to tell you about spawn, I'll have to begin with our history." Father Jonathan explained. "Many, many centuries ago, so long ago that most of our written history has been lost, the Kingdom of Aallgard was settled by a band of a few hundred explorers.

"These explorers established settlements, small villages of hardly more than thirty people. The newcomers attracted attention from the nearby forests, hostile and friendly alike. Soon enough the first meeting between spawn and man commenced.

"This is the part where it gets tricky." Jonathan admitted, and Brown nodded in understanding. "There are no records existing of the meeting, but general knowledge of the time period suggests that the spawn actually welcomed the settlers to their land, and soon began to work in tandem with them. Spawn have never been common, but I believe this was a period where you could find one without much difficulty."

"Unfortunately…" Jonathan opened the first volume, a red book with a gilded title that glittered in the warm light. Flipping expertly, he landed on a page with a large portrait covering the entire space. It was of a man with a large beard, stern eyes and small, pointed nose. He was cloaked in royal clothing and had an extravagant sword strapped to his waist. Brown leaned forward and pulled the book closer; there was a caption of some sort that he couldn't decipher, but the man's aura was obviously commanding.

"This is the late King Warrick the Third." The father continued. "Technical great-grandfather to our current King, however his family's throne was usurped after the war."

"The war?" Jonathan raised his eyebrows.

"Nobody knows why, and we were never able to find out before his untimely passing," Jonathan took the volume back and flipped to an index in the back, "But King Warrick declared war on the entire race of spawn approximately… two century ago." Brown held up a hand.

"Wait, wait wait. I think I should have known if our Kingdom had been through a war."

"You would think so, wouldn't you?" Father Jonathan smiled wryly, his bald aged face creasing in wrinkles. "The war ended only a hundred fifty years ago, today actually, but it's spoken of so rarely that many people forget about the whole thing. They remember spawn only as rare and vicious beasts who wronged the kingdom in some way, and were punished for it. Such are the lies that Warrick spread, anyway. I am honestly surprised anyone believed him, but like I said, we do not know exactly what occurred."

"So what happened when Warrick declared war?" Brown asked, feeling like a child listening to stories around the fire.

"The spawn were completely unprepared, and hundreds were massacred in cities and towns." Jonathan admitted sadly. "Those who remained fled into the wilderness and soon planned counterattacks, which were carried out quickly and silently. Eventually King Warrick was assassinated, by whom we don't know, but everyone has guessed. Most people believe a spawn assassinated him."

"...Ouch." Was all Farmer Brown could say. Father Jonathan laughed. "Indeed. The spawn have remained reclusive, living deep in the wilderness ever since."

"Wow. I had never had any idea how much history there was." Brown finally said after he and the father sat in silence, letting the story sink in.

"It's a fascinating tale to be sure." Jonathan agreed, setting the other two volumes on his desk, a blue and and a green one, in front of Brown. "Plenty of clerics, priests and historians have done more research, but further clues are still locked in shadow. These two volumes are all that comprise the last century and a half of research, and the originals of each are in the royal library.

Brown picked up the blue volume curiously, flipping through the finger-worn pages. He couldn't read it, of course, but plenty of the pictures were very interesting.

"Father, what's this picture of?" He asked, laying the book on the desk and pointing to an illustration depicting a wolf and a man.

"Ah!" Jonathan seemed to be getting excited now; Brown could only assume that he enjoyed the topic a little more than what was "required."

"This is a diagram of one of the types of spawn. This chapter talks about the three main types: Crafters, Hybrids and Brines."

"Brines?" Brown stifled an amused laugh.

"Odd name, I know. Nobody's actually been able to confirm the existence of the Brine; it's only legend so far."

"What about the others?"

"Crafters are the most common type, able to create things, even shape matter, with their hands. They're almost always known to be skilled craftsmen. Hybrids have two sub-types: Shifters and BeastMen. These are in turn shapeshifters, able to transform into a single animal and back again, or strange-looking men with traits of animals, such as fur or tails."

"Fascinating."

"Isn't it?" Jonathan smiled widely. "I'll be perfectly honest, I have always been fascinated with the idea of spawn, shapeshifters particularly."

"So what's this one?" Farmer Brown picked up the green volume.

"That, my good man, is a record of every spawn known to exist. The book says that the last one was sighted over fifty years ago."

"More like over fifty hours ago." Brown muttered to himself. Handing the volume back to Jonathan, he smiled warmly. "Thank you, Father. I had better find an inn, it's getting late." He nodded to the clock hanging on the wall.

Father Jonathan stood and pulled him up in another hug, shaking his hand with more vigor than Brown would have given the old man credit. "Thank you for coming to talk! I do love company; I'd ask why you wanted to know, but it's not my business." Brown laughed as they passed quickly through the monastery, and he waved goodbye at the gate. "Thank you again Father!" He called before he turned to the setting sun.


	4. Truce

Greetings! Thanks to all who reviewed, but I won't keep you waiting!

I DO NOT OWN MINECRAFT OR ANY RIGHTS THEREOF, ONLY MY OCs.

 **Truce**

Farmer Brown urged Bret through the streets as the public flooded out of the open and into the inviting safety of the buildings. He passed the single iron golem that guarded the settlement, clunking along heavily on its rusted feet, and deposited Bret safely in the stable as he rushed into the inn. There was a tavern on the first floor, and since he hadn't eaten almost all day he paid for a plate of steak before going to hunker in his room.

The following morning Brown saddled Bret for the journey home. He really didn't want to return, indeed was terrified to. He could recall every word he'd said to the spawn living in his barn, specifically the part where'd he'd pretty much threatened to kill him. That could not have good repercussions. But something in the farmer, a small stubbornness inherited from his father, told him " _I'm not being driven off my own farm."_ All points aside, he had to fix his barn.

The river village was small, but the road was always busy and the river more so. Brown passed many groups of travelers on his way out of town, several of which were merchant's carts that he stopped to buy supplies from. The road that led directly to his farm was towards the south, and he was just leaving the last buildings behind when Bret stopped.

Brown had been glaring at a creeper perched on a cliff over the river (he was still very angry about having his barn demolished,) and didn't notice until he realized the familiar rhythm of hooves and movement had ceased.

When he turned he noticed a man standing in the middle of their path, and Bret, always simple-minded, had decided to stop rather than move around. The stranger looked to be just under two blocks tall, and was facing away from them, perfectly still.

When neither of them moved, Brown coughed awkwardly. "Are you okay?" He asked. This enticed a startled jolt from the man, who swung around to face them.

"Sorry." The man apologised, stuttering slightly. "I didn't realize you were there." _Obviously not,_ Brown thought as he examined his appearance. He had flat bangs that covered his forehead and wore a black jacket with blue trim on the pockets. Most noticeably, his eyes were wide and the pupils obscured by cataracts. They stared straight past the villager without seeing him.

"Are you lost?" Brown questioned. The man was obviously blind, and Farmer Brown wouldn't have been surprised if he was standing there because he didn't know which way the road led.

"No-no. I'm fine." The stranger smiled sheepishly and waved a hand as he tentatively felt his way around them, walking backwards past Bret and his rider and down the road. "Sorry again!" With that, he turned and walked hurriedly away, scratching his black hair with a hand in his jeans pocket.

"Well." Brown mused. "That was interesting." Casting aside the experience as coincidence, he urged Bret forward again and they made steady pace back to the farm.

Brown camped in whatever shelter he could find and occasionally build during the night, but Bret's pace did not slow and so they arrived home the afternoon of the fourth day. The sun was hot on his back as Farmer Brown approached his homestead, and swinging off Bret he took him by his lead the rest of the way.

Brown had not really considered what he would do if his guest attacked him, but he had not wanted to think about it and now sincerely wished he had a plan. Nonetheless, he pressed forward, but stopped in shock when his eyes greeted the barn.

He gawked at the repaired fence holding a few baaing sheep. Moving to the door, Brown took a deep, steadying breath, and swung it open. The combination of torch and sun flooded the barn with light, and he gawked further.

The jagged hole in the barn wall was gone, the charred old planks torn up and replaced with fresh ones. The crater had been filled in, and Bret's stall repaired with fresh hay piled high in the rack. One of his cows was standing in its pen with a bandage on its rump, and the pigs oinked nearby.

Brown set Bret safe at home and the donkey happily began to chew the new hay as Brown hung the saddle and moved to where the hole had been. He moved his hand gently over the sanded wood, amazed at the speed and precision of the craftsmanship. If Brown had done this, it would have taken him a week or more to fill the crater and tear up every bad plank in the wall, two weeks to collect timber and convert it into usable material, plus sanding, and then another two weeks to put the whole thing together on his own. That wasn't even counting finding and retrieving the sheep that scattered that night, if it were even possible by then.

The spawn had accomplished a month's worth of work within a fourth of the time, on Farmer Brown's own barn!

And Brown had threatened to kill him.

Movement somewhere above him caught his attention, and the farmer looked up. Green eyes met black once more; the spawn had been lying on a beam in the rafters behind him. Only his head and forearm were visible.

Brown's mouth went dry. What should he say? What could he do? They stayed like that a long time, each waiting for the other to make the first move. Surprisingly, the spawn broke first.

"So, what did you bring me? A talisman, to ward off evil? Or maybe something simpler, like a poisoned arrow?" The spawn sneered, but it seemed insincere; a show to hide his fear, perhaps.

"Actually," Brown fished through his satchel, which he had neglected to hang, "an apple." He brought out the solid red fruit and tossed it up towards the ceiling. The spawn caught it in one hand, stared at the offering, then narrowed his eyes and looked down at the villager.

"What game are you playing, farmer?" He growled.

It had not been the reaction he'd hoped for, but Brown continued bravely. "No game." He assured the suspicious man. "At least, I hope I'm not playing one. Are you?"

"Hey!" The spawn hissed, gripping the rafter. "Stop talking in riddles!" Brown sighed, then glanced back at the wall and up to the spawn.

"Look-I… I saw what you did with the barn."

"Obviously."

"Thank you." This caught the spawn's attention, he froze for a moment and his expression softened. He looked at Brown curiously.

"What?"

"Just… thanks." Brown shrugged, looking away. "I'm sorry I accused you, but… well, this barn means a lot to me. Thanks for fixing it."

The spawn watched him a moment, considered the apple in his hand, and finally took a cautious bite out of it. "No problem…" He mumbled.


	5. Bonding

Hello again! Guess what? :3 I held chickens! ...Okay, so it's not that great, but they were so fluffy! ^^ Me and my friends would be the worst farmhands ever.

I DO NOT OWN MINECRAFT OR ANY RIGHTS THEREOF, ONLY MY OCs.

 **Bonding**

With the barn repaired and their short, but productive conversation ended peace was reestablished on the villager's farm. Brown woke up the next morning to the smell of burning flesh and the sound of tortured groans on the lawn, but he didn't let it bother him when he went to check on the sheep.

Taking his ever-trusty pitchfork Brown opened the gate and entered the pen, waving the pitchfork and pushing them out the opening towards the stream far in the distance. It was actually a tributary to the river that led to town, and ran a few chunks from his house.

Sighing Brown stood on a rise overlooking the sheep and cracked his back, the sun well above the trees. Driving the sheep solo was always a chore, and it was several hours before they arrived back outside the barn. Brown grimaced; this was the part he hated, trying to drive them all into the narrow gate opening while preventing escapees. He had done this for years, however, and set to work.

"You know, you're doing that wrong." Came a voice from behind him. Brown turned to see the spawn leaning against the barn wall, arms folded.

"And you think you could do it better?" Brown challenged.

"Perhaps." The other man shrugged his shoulders and walked forward, hands in his jacket pockets. Brown stood aside and watched with interest, curious as to what would play out. Weaving through the scattered flock, the spawn stood squarely in the gateway and withdrew his hand, which held a fistful of wheat.

Immediately every head of every sheep turned in a rather creepy synchronized fashion, and they began to push past each other in their haste to get the delicious morsel. Waving the treat high above their heads, the spawn walked backwards until one by one, every single sheep was inside the pen.

The black-haired man squeezed through the wooly bodies and quickly shut the gate before any could escape. Turning, he held out the wheat to Farmer Brown.

"That was… impressive." Brown admitted, taking the grain from his guest. _I can't believe I had never heard of a trick so simple._ He berated himself privately, but said nothing else aloud.

"Trick of the trade, learned it from a friend of mine." The spawn grinned, his eyes sparkling.

Brown nodded and spoke again. "Out of curiosity, what friend?" The other man shrugged.

"You wouldn't know him, he died a long time ago."

"How long?"

"Maybe twenty years? I lose track sometimes."

"Ah."

They stood for a while after that, Brown fiddling with his sleeves and the spawn scratching his head awkwardly. Neither one felt entirely comfortable, but didn't want to be the first to flee. Finally Brown coughed.

"I'm Brown." He extended a hand. The other man grinned and shook it readily.

"Slimeball, but you can call me Slime."

"...ah, Slimeball?"

"Yeah?"

"No-I-I mean…"

"Oh, yeah. Don't mind it, there have been stranger names."

"I see."

Brown didn't talk much with Slimeball for another few days, aside from the occasional greeting. They were slowly getting used to each other, and Brown couldn't help but think that he could get used to having company. It certainly helped make life a little more interesting.

The farmer had been out in the small garden he kept and stayed much later than he should have, and was rushing back to his house in the pitch of night. He wished fervently that he hadn't left his pitchfork at home today, as he had seen no need for it. Now the groans of the undead urged his steps forward towards safety.

Unfortunately Brown found himself stopping mid-step as his emerald eyes widened in fright. Between him and the door, practically overtaken the lawn was a group of at least five zombies. Their ugly green heads turned towards the smell of flesh and Brown turned and ran for the barn.

"Rats. Rats. Rats. Rats. Rats." He hissed to himself as a trio of skeletons, one of which was riding a spider, appeared from the side of the barn. Brown knew that skeletons didn't normally attack testificates, but they were blocking the door. He turned to see in the dim light the zombies stumbling closer.

"I'm going to die." Brown whispered, squeezing his eyes shut. Then there was a _hiss_ and a whirl and something hooked the back of the farmer's robe. Brown felt himself pulled forcibly off his feet just as one of the zombies lunged for him, and dragged backwards through the dirt.

"Augh, help!" He shrieked, struggling against whatever had him in its grasp. Brown was dragged right through the skeletons and hit the barn door. He groaned as his heels were hoisted off the ground, and he bumped softly against the birch wood planks as the farmer was hoisted steadily above the ground.

"Having fun?" An amused voice laughed just as Brown reached the peak of the roof. The farmer looked up to see none other than Slime perched atop the roof, fishing rod in hand and Brown in tow.

"Ahh…" The villager was thoroughly embarrassed, hanging from a fishhook, and was about to start stumbling for words but Slime waved him off with a hand.

"Get up here before my rod breaks." He smiled. Brown complied readily, and seated himself on the roof while the rod was replaced with a bow and arrow. They sat there in silence, listening to the cries of the mobs that fell victim to Slime's aim, and the soft _zip_ of the rod as it was cast for loot. Eventually the sun broke through the treetops and returned peace to the hostile fields.


	6. Zombied

Ello! _**PLEASE READ THIS:**_ Quick note, June 30-July 10th or so I won't be posting anything or responding to messages, I'll be out of town. Camping is awesome, thanks!

Also, thanks to all who reviewed, please Review, Follow or Favorite (especially Review, I love those!) Enjoy!

 **Zombied**

It was slowly becoming that time of year again. Not for several more months, but on a farm, everything must be done beforehand. This found Farmer Brown out collecting firewood in the woods with an iron axe of his. Iron was hard to come by for him, so he kept it reserved for the tools he used most; axes, shovels, hoes and pitchforks.

So Brown went about his day and soon began lugging back fallen trees using a handcart that fared better amongst the trees than his bulky wagon. Leaning against a stump at the top of a rise, he wiped the sweat off his brow and chugged from a bottle of water. Glancing back, he eyed the sizable pile of lumber and sighed. "Never around when you need him, that spawn."

He hadn't thought much about it, but suddenly Brown realized how used he'd grown to seeing Slime around the farm. They still interacted very little; neither one could think of a buyable reason to talk to the other. Brown pondered this as he looked out at his farm in the distance.

Doing a double-take, Brown brought a hand to his forehead and squinted. He'd unknowingly drawn a loop around the farm while he'd been cutting, and now he had a shortcut instead of the achingly long pull back. He grinned in relief and turned to begin the maneuver down the slope.

The shade of the trees was welcome relief and the farmer glanced up at the sky to make sure he was making good enough time. If need be he could drop the cart and come back in the morning; not many people traversed his neck of the woods. Said cart chose that moment to hit a rut. He let out a gasp of shock as his robes and stomach folded in against the handlebar. Hissing, Brown turned to fix the problem.

The wheel had been jammed by a large root that snaked over the little trail he had made, and no matter how hard Brown tugged it wouldn't come loose. He grunted with the effort and finally sighed and disengaged himself from the bar so he could push.

As Brown was walking around the cart he lost his footing climbing over the root that had jammed it. This caused him to trip and he let out a surprised _whoop_ as he tumbled head-over-heels into the brush.

And kept falling.

It took a minute for Brown to wonder why he hadn't stopped falling, however that was all he had and he his the cold stone with an "Oof" and a painful _thump._ Wincing, he pushed himself onto his hands and knees and looked up.

It was a drop; the kind he sometimes encountered in plains and were best avoided. It was a simple hole in the ground, a natural chute with smooth, unclimbable walls and lethal to anyone unprepared.

And Brown was certainly not prepared. If he'd had wood he might have built a makeshift staircase, but as it was the cart was still on the trail, along with his axe. His only means of defence. Gulping, he turned towards the only way forward: down. The villager stood there for several minutes, listening to his conscious argue with itself.

 _There's only one way to go._

 _Yes, the zombie-infested way!_

 _Well, what do you want to do, wait for nightfall?_

 _It_ is _nightfall down here!_

 _All the more reason to keep moving._

 _But-_

 _ **Move.**_

Brown armed himself with his fists and descended into the dark.

The village farmer had actually never been underground before; he had always considered it a task best left to those more agile in the dark and dangerous crevices: namely, human men. Brown would tend his sheep over adventuring in the deep any day.

 _Hey, that rhymed!_

 _Shh, you need to listen!_

He hated it when he got nervous. It always manifested itself in the form of strange illusions, sometimes even hallucinations like voices and shadows. Brown tentatively reached out a hand and felt the smooth, rippled, even slightly damp surface of decades, perhaps centuries without sunlight.

And he was only a dozen blocks under. Or at least, he had when he fell.

The caves were not what he expected. The horror stories Brown had imagined involved mold and wet and funny smells and hordes upon hordes of monsters. These caves were relatively clear, even quiet. He supposed it changed the further you went down. Suddenly a high-pitched _squeak_ filled the silence and Brown threw himself to the floor. A bat whizzed over his head. He could see nothing in the pitch blackness, but he heard the flapping.

"Get it together, Brown." He mumbled, feeling the hairs on his neck prickle and rise. Something was coming. Slowly. He readied his fists and crouched.

"Oouuggh." The faint sound of steps were faster now, and there were more of them. Suddenly a freakish noise louder than Brown expected sounded from the tunnel. It was short and rough and reminded him of the bark of a dog.

"Brains!" Suddenly they were all running, faster than the farmer thought was possible for zombies to run, and Brown lost his nerve and ran too.

The chase was short. He jumped and ducked and literally crashed into a skeleton, sending bones flying on the way. Brown thought to grab one and use it as a weapon, but by then the scene was behind him and he was running, running as fast as his legs would carry him. Then he hit the wall.

Winded, the farmer stumbled back and turned, feeling the stone for another way out. There was none, and just as he turned to run straight back through the zombies they were on him.

The farmer gagged on the stench as slimy hands gripped his clothes. He shrieked and punched them away, punched anything his fist could contact with, but it was all in vain. There were so many.

Suddenly teeth met Brown's forearm and he screamed and tried to pull it back, but the teeth clung on and he felt flesh rip and smelled blood. The scent excited the mob and they were on him further, Brown pulled back but hit the wall and was ready to die, when he noticed that his arm smelled strange.

In all the life-threatening situations there are, it was the weirdest thing to simply notice such a trivial thing as the smell of your arm; but Brown noticed it. He could distinguish the stench of each individual zombie, and he could smell his own blood. It smelled… good.

Brown brought his arm up to look at it, the mob forgotten. He stared deliriously at the messy wound, not stopping to realize he could now see in the dark. There was a creeping green around the edges of the red, and then it erupted, and Brown lost his mind.

The hunger… the hunger began to drive him. The zombies stopped in their rampage and left the other way. Brown was one of their own now, and the villager-turned zombie followed them. The hunger was rampant, clawing at their insides and filling their lungs with the tender smell of meat; but the meat was only half of it. What they wanted was blood. Fresh blood.

They would only be satisfied once they tasted the blood; and maybe not even then.

* * *

The onomatopoeias are strong with this one. You know, I always wondered what it would be like to turn into a zombie.


	7. Calling Reinforcements

I felt like getting this out before hiatus ^^ Again, gone June 30th-July 10th! Wow, this is my biggest chapter so far...

Thanks to all who Reviewed, Followed or Favorited!

I DO NOT OWN MINECRAFT OR ANY RIGHTS THEREOF, ONLY MY OCs.

 **Calling Reinforcements**

Slime stood atop the barn, watching as the sun dipped towards the horizon with his hands on his hips. It was nearly five hours since Brown had last gone into the woods, and he was starting to worry. Fetching wood didn't take this long, surely?

It felt odd to Slime to worry about somebody not a spawn, but the farmer had hit a soft spot in his heart. Slime respected him for his courage, however deep it was buried, and for not killing him off the bat. Plenty of people had tried to do that already.

Normally when people went missing Slime didn't get involved; he just looted anything he found and went on his way. He still could, but stealing from Brown felt wrong now. It was a betrayal of trust. Besides, the man was nice, and hardworking: something hard to come by these days. Sighing, Slime carefully slid down a rope he set up behind the barn for easy access. It looked like Brown needed rescuing again.

Spawn were able to travel much faster on foot than normal men or villagers; they just had more strength and stamina. If a man traveled five chunks a day, a spawn traveled ten, so it was no problem for Slime to track the ruts Brown's cart made all the way to the rise and down again. He unzipped his green jacket as he walked, and stuck his hands in his pockets. Soon enough Brown's cart came into view up ahead, and Slime stopped.

It seemed abandoned, simply left in the road, and for a moment Slime wondered if he'd gone ahead to make it back before sunset, but careful circling revealed no further prints. It was literally as if the somewhat clumsy villager vanished off the earth, leaving his cart and woodpile behind.

Slime stepped over a massive root that the wheel was jammed behind, and placed a hand on the tree, peering into the brush. Tentatively reaching forward, he grasped the stalk of a fern and tugged. It ripped out of the soil, roots and all, and revealed a gaping hole just off the path. It was a sinkhole.

So Brown had gotten stuck, tried to move the cart, and somehow fallen into a sinkhole.

"Phooey." Leaning on his hands and knees, Slime peered into the shaded abyss. He could see the ground, so it was a survivable drop. Turning back to the loaded cart, Slime grinned mischievously. "No sense in wasting valuable lumber!"

Half an hour later Slime was gingerly making his way down the rock face, a torch held in his teeth as he steadied the ladder that was anchored on the large tree. Setting foot upon the stone, he squinted into the deep shadow that was an underground cave system. A foul stench floated before the mumbled "Oooghs" and "Auughs" characteristic of zombies.

Nervous now, especially for the fate of Farmer Brown, Slime's enchanted iron sword appeared in his right hand and he held the torch in his left, lighting up the tunnel as he went.

"Brains!" Came the first cry, and then more like it. The mobs had caught his scent. Slime backed up as the filthy green shapes lurched out of the gloom. Gritting his teeth, he yelled out a battle cry and charged.

The first zombie was stabbed, the second like unto it. A spider hissed and leaped forward only to be impaled on Slime's weapon. Shaking the disgusting corpse off, the spawn parried one zombie and struck several times but the sickly shape refused to die a second time. Finally Slime had enough and decapitated the disease-ridden body. It stumbled forward three steps and collapsed.

Slime was about to jump the fourth zombie when he stopped and stumbled back. Despite the greenish, already molding skin, the reddened eyes and torn-up arm, the zombie was very much Farmer Brown.

"Great!" He groaned. "I'll deal with you later." Instead he turned to Brown's new friends, two of which had flanked him during his pause.

"Sorry 'bout this." He apologised, smacking one undead corpse to the ground and allowing the other to fall on top of it. He dodged a lunge from Farmer Brown and impaled the two that had fallen over one another, both at the same time. They let out unearthly moans and fell limp.

The party very much crashed, Slime turned his attention to Brown, who was still going strong. Swapping out his sword for a shield, he advanced carefully. "Brown, buddy? You still in there?" He asked tentatively.

The only reply he got was an enraged snarl and a lunge. Unsure what to do, Slime dodged and began to back away.

"Come on, Brown. I don't wanna kill you." He begged, looking pleadingly at the delirious red eyes and saggy cheeks. Brown did not respond, and Slime was trying to think of ways to help when inspiration struck.

Hefting the shield on one arm Slime brought out a multitude of wood planks with the other and began to stack a wall between him and Brown, ever careful to keep his shield between him and the infected villager. Brown scratched at the planks and Slime led him around, carefully constructing corners and sometimes pushing Brown back in until he had his zombified friend safely encased in a sturdy wooden box.

"Now then…" Slimeball mumbled to himself as he patrolled the rest of the cave. He set down torches to ward off potential foes and used more planks to block up plenty of entrances into deeper tunnels. He could mine in those later, but for now he had more pressing concerns.

"I'll be right back." Slime offered to the groaning coming from the cage. Making sure nothing could disturb his barriers, he jogged back to the ladder and climbed back to the surface.

It was the middle of the night by the time Slime returned to the barn, dodging arrows, running from hordes of more zombies and killing another creeper by the wall before it had a chance to repeat "The Incident." Heaving open the large door, Slime gestured to a contented-looking Bret chewing hay in his stall.

"You're coming with me." He told the donkey.

The going was slow, much slower than Slime would have liked, but he couldn't have run the entire distance himself and had no access to a horse. Nonetheless, Slime had to acknowledge Bret's sturdiness and patted the donkey appreciatively on the neck. Slime could only cross his fingers that Brown was alright as four days later they arrived at the village.

Hiding Bret in the shrubbery and leaving him tied to a fencepost Slime had brought, he left the donkey to chew his cud as he made his way towards the edge of the tree line.

The village of Salomi was located on the edge of the river in the middle of a vast field of grass. Several plots of farmland ringed the settlement, but the dock was what was most impressive. The people were obviously dedicated to their river trade, and the market made up half the houses riverside.

Slime groaned; unlike some spawn he knew, he preferred to live, and sometimes travel, alone. Big settlements, even as small as this village, always unnerved him. There was just so much… _social_ going on. Slime had no idea what to do with people, so he avoided them for the most part, Brown an exception. Problem was, his allies would be somewhere inside the perimeter. Hopefully. If not, Slime had no idea where to begin looking for their base.

Trying to act as normal as possible the man walked down the gravel streets with his hands in his pockets and his hood up. He smiled and shook his head politely at a hopeful merchant, and wandered the streets for several minutes.

Eventually Slime sighed in aggravation and leaned against a wall; how was he going to find those two in all this!? He didn't even know if they were in the village, it was simply his only option. Tilting his head up he closed his eyes and grunted in disappointment.

"Looking for someone?" Slime opened one eye to see a friendly-looking man standing awkwardly, head tilted and smiling. Slime shifted and coughed, scratching the back of his head. "Yes, actually- uhm… do you know a blind man who visits this town every once in awhile?"

"Do we know 'im." The man chuckled. "Yes, I know him. He an' 'is buddy often visit the tavern." He pointed down the bustling road. "Jus' take two lefts and a right."

"Thank you." Slime smiled, offering his hand. The man shook it eagerly. "Always a pleasure to help!"

The tavern was a bustling, dusty place when Slime stepped through the door. Men were laughing in a circle around an intense-looking game of pool and waiters were constantly scrubbing down tables and chairs with wet clothes. He spotted his quarry almost instantly and quietly crept up behind two men, sitting quietly on stools at the counter. The smaller of the two had flat black bangs and wore a black outfit with blue trim, and his eyes were vacant and obscured by cataracts. The second had a mob of cinnamon hair and wore a red-and-white striped t-shirt with green eyes. The latter saw Slime first so he smiled and brought a finger to his lips. The man nodded and sipped from a mug on the table.

"I hope you haven't been drinking, you two." Slime smiled, standing directly behind them. The former spun around and almost spilled his mug of cider in shock.

"Why on earth would you think that!?" He sputtered, sincerely offended. Slime patted him on the back.

"Relax, Trouble. I was joking. Hey Chase." He nodded to the other, and received a nod back with a friendly wave.

"So, what are you doing in this neck of the woods? You haven't come this far north for quite a while." Trouble observed, leaning back onto the counter. "Actually," Slime replied. "I came to ask for a favor."

"Say no more." Was Trouble's reply and Chase grabbed both their hands to lead them out, dropping the bartender a tip on the way.


	8. Cure

Hey, guess who's back? I got a bite of some sort on my ear at camp. It looked like a mosquito bite, but it had the symptoms of a spider bite, and it made my ear swell to like twice it's size and I don't normally react to mosquito bites like that. Tons of fun, I was bite buddies with a friend of mine who got a spider bite on her ankle. It was really gross, oozing puss and everything. I also got to pull handcarts. Okay, I won't keep you anymore, I'm sure you've all been waiting patiently (I'd actually be really flattered if you couldn't wait.) ONWARD!

 **Cure**

Father Jonathan was walking to his dorms after sunset with his arms folded neatly inside his purple robes. The sky was filled with stars, but the interior of the fence was well-lit and kept free of mobs. The elderly villager was just passing the entry path when a horrendous ringing sounded from the main gate.

Turning the way he had come, Jonathan rushed with quick steps down the pathway to answer the call. Normally he let the page boys take care of such matters, but because he was in the area he felt he should spare the lads a few winks. Arriving in the circle of torchlight keeping the mobs at bay, he slowed to examine his visitors.

They both appeared to be men, one with gray cataracts obscuring his eyes and the other with a mop of brown hair. Jonathan stopped and watched them from the other side of the iron gate.

"What can I help you with, gentlemen?" He asked. The brown-haired one looked over their shoulder while the blind one spoke.

"Excuse us, sir, but we're looking for the head of the monastery." He was punched in the shoulder by the man looking back. "May we come in? There are creepers out here."

"Of course." Jonathan issued a key from the folds of his sleeve and unlocked the gate. Sometimes he worried about people coming in the dead of night, but the monastery was open to all in need. "My name is Father Jonathan, High Priest of the grounds. How may I help you?"

The blind man looked thoroughly relieved and ran a hand through his floppy black bangs. He and his companion stepped carefully inside and he pulled what looked like a blob of maroon muck from his pocket.

"We need your help." The man began. "A friend of ours is in danger, we'd like you to take this fermented spider eye and make us a splash potion of weakness. We will pay you handsomely." Jonathan took the disgusting organ from his hand and examined it thoroughly, squishing it between his fingers.

"This is a fine eye." The priest remarked. "It must have taken you some time to ferment." The other man coughed roughly. "Yes, it ahh, did."

"Well, come along." Father Jonathan gestured to the main building and led the two strangers through the corridors to a small room in the back. Jonathan lit a torch and placed it on the wall, revealing a cauldron and brewing stand set atop a wood table. A large chest sat in the corner, and a chair was set up next to the desk. A small library of chemistry books were stacked atop a bookshelf.

Withdrawing blaze powder from the chest, Jonathan placed a glass bottle of water on the stand and dumped the eye into the canister atop the main rod. He filled the fuel can with glowing red dust and sat in the chair to wait.

"I know many of these recipes well." Jonathan remarked after a few minutes of silence. "A potion of weakness is used to cure turned men and villagers." He raised an eyebrow. "You said something about a friend being in danger?"

"Yes, he's… a farmer, living about four days travel from here." This caused Jonathan to stop.

"Does his name happen to be Brown?"

"Ehh…" The man shifted uncomfortably. "I guess?"

Jonathan gritted his teeth in worry. He didn't know how this information had come by him, but there had to be a reason. It sounded like Brown needed his help. "That man is a friend of mine. May I come? I can supply a golden apple, no charge."

The man in the red-and-white striped t-shirt tapped something out on his companion's shoulder, then took his hand and dragged him into a corner. They bent their heads together, but no sounds of whispering ensued. After several minutes they turned around.

"Yes, you can come, but we're leaving immediately." The blind man said.

"Works for me." Jonathan nodded. "By the way, what should I call you?" The pair smiled and the one in the black jacket jabbed a thumb at himself. "My name's Trouble, the other's Chase."

"Oh, I think I've heard of you." Father Jonathan remarked, shaking each of their hands.

"Good things I hope?"

"Well…"

"Oh. Rats."

That conversation led Jonathan to be riding atop a horse borrowed from the monastery stables, cloaked in thick fur against the driving rain. Chase was atop another steed, Trouble seated behind him. It had been their final day of travel, the horse's pace helping plenty to shorten the distance. Unfortunately, the going was less well in the wind and muck. Every now and then the group had to steer around stray zombies out in the humidity. Twice they were shot at by skeletons.

"There!" Trouble pointed to the birchwood barn standing tall despite the storm. Jonathan looked over at him in astonishment. "I thought you were blind."

"I am. Chase told me." Trouble explained. "He sees, I hear. Now follow us." To the priest's surprise, the duo turned their gray steed to a logging trail that wound through the trees. Jonathan had no choice but to follow.

The trees sheltered them some from the wind, but the rain leaked downwards through the branches and soon Jonathan felt grateful for the protective traveling cloak he wore. His own white horse plodded along more slowly behind the gray steed borrowed by Chase and Trouble.

Soon enough they came to an empty handcart jammed at one side of the logging trail. Here Chase dismounted and helped Trouble down. Jonathan winced as his old bones creaked, following suit. Cold weather did him little good.

"Where are we?" Jonathan asked, looking about at the stormy woods. A light fog obscured the farthest trees.

"Almost there." Trouble answered. Chase motioned to Father Jonathan and he was shown a gaping hole in the ground, a rickety-looking ladder the only path forward.

"Don't tell me Brown is down there." Jonathan was aghast.

"We couldn't move him far as a zombie." Trouble shrugged. "And don't ask us what he was doing down there. Now let's go." Following that statement was an agonizingly slow process of Chase helping Trouble onto the ladder without sending him over the edge. Jonathan went down last, after hesitating before the drop.

On the floor of the chasm Jonathan gaped at the massive stone tunnel lit by torchlight, some of which were extinguished and smoking in the rain. It stunk of rotting flesh, but despite this Chase took Trouble's hand and let Jonathan follow after.

Jonathan kept glancing nervously over his shoulder, half expecting a flesh-eating mob to jump out despite the heavy torchlight. Suddenly there was a battle-cry, a screamed "Aaaargh!" and the clang of steel. Jonathan just about jumped out of his skin and turned to see Chase holding another man at bay with an iron sword. The stranger had black hair, more well-trimmed than Trouble's, and wore a green jacket that he had unzipped. His weapon glowed brightly with enchantment, and he and Chase held the position, their swords forced against each others, for another half second until releasing.

"Chase! Trouble! You guys made it!" The stranger exclaimed, and Father Jonathan gawked in surprise as the three exchanged some sort of secret hand-shake. "Sorry." He continued. "I thought you were zombies, the dumb things have been dropping down the hole like rabbits."

"No problem." Trouble smiled and Chase waved in response. The stranger then frowned and turned to Jonathan, who did his best to stand tall under the scrutinizing gaze.

"What's he doing here?" The stranger remarked.

"He's a friend of Brown." Trouble supplied.

"And you let him come?" The stranger wrinkled his nose in disgust.

"Well we couldn't just leave him to worry." Trouble argued. "And besides, Slimeball, we're not the only ones who seem to have gotten friendly."

Jonathan cleared his throat. "Sl-Slimeball?" He asked. The other man looked him over once more, then wrinkled his nose again.

"Call me Slime." With that, Slime turned and led the way down the corridors.


	9. Message

Phew. Busy summer. Summer is busy. Busiest summer of my life. **IMPORTANT NOTICE:** Starting Sunday I'll be gone another week. Crazy things, so I decided to get another chapter or two out before a second absence. Thanks for your patience!

 **Message**

Blood. He could smell the blood, it filled the room with its intoxicating stench. Brown licked his lips and groaned, falling against the iron bars as he tried to claw his way out. People were coming. Walking lumps of meat that would finally sate his hunger. All he had to do was get out, and their flesh would be his…

"Brown? Buddy? You okay?" Brown snorted in disgust. How dare this walking feast think he was "okay" trapped, hungry, thirsting, in a cell!? From the other side of the bars the concerned face of Slime bent closer, and blurred shapes in the background shifted uneasily. Brown could smell their fear, and enticed, he lunged and stuck a hand through the bars. Slime doubled back and glanced over his shoulder to a place where Brown's vision blurred and he could not see the others standing. He could smell them, though.

"Alright, which of you has the cure?" Slime asked. Jonathan blinked, startled out of his trance. He had been staring at the caged Brown, so unlike the farmer he knew, but recognizable. Jonathan only hoped it wasn't too late, but people had been cured after far longer than this. If Brown hadn't decayed to the point his internal organs wouldn't function independently, and obviously he hadn't, there was hope.

"I have it." Jonathan said, pulling his satchel from under his cloak and fishing about in it. With his hand out came the potion of weakness, along with the golden apple. He handed both to Slime, who turned without a word back to the cage. Realizing both Chase and Trouble had been quiet, Jonathan looked over to see Chase tapping on Trouble's shoulder. He seemed to be using some kind of morse to describe what was happening.

"Yo, Chase." Trouble pulled on Chase's hand and Chase looked at Slime, who turned his head so he could see his face. "See that lever over there?" He nodded to the wooden rod sticking out of the wall. "That lever will open the door. When I'm in, close it, and don't open it again until I give the signal." Chase nodded in affirmation, and stood dutifully by the wall.

"Wait…" Slime held one hand up, the potion in the other. "Now!" Chase threw the lever and a hidden door in the iron bars slid down into the ground, bringing a chunk of ceiling with it.

There was a loud grating, and then a clanking sound, and the Brown watched in amazement as Slime _entered the cell._ Finally! He thought. Now he could satisfy his hunger, and Slime would have no escape. Brown ignored the door closing again as he lunged for the meat that suffocated his senses with its delicious smell.

Why… why couldn't he reach him? Brown snarled and groaned, straining and pushing against the floor with all his might, but he couldn't get closer than a foot to Slime. What magic was this? Looking down, he saw an arm extended against his chest. Slime was holding him back.

Roaring, Brown was about to bite the arm holding him, when something glass shattered over his head and he was doused with a sickly liquid. His knees growing weak, Brown gurgled as he tried to bite Slime again, and succeeded. Sinking his teeth in, Brown sucked on the flesh.

Eww. Did Slime really taste this bad? Pulling back, Brown swallowed reflexively. He felt strange. What was wrong? Suddenly Brown began to shudder involuntarily, and he let out a , he screech, dropping to the floor as his vision swam.

"Chase, let me out, let me out!" Slime waved his arms frantically and the hidden door slid open. Slime threw himself through the opening and Chase threw the lever shut again. Getting to his feet, he turned to the gawking priest, who had remained quiet the whole time.

"Thanks." He said grudgingly, handing the villager what remained of the apple. Slime was well aware of how rude he was being, but he wasn't in the mood to sort out his conflicting emotions right now. "Everyone get comfortable, this will take a few hours." Sitting down Slime leaned against the cave wall and began to doze.

Jonathan sat himself cross-legged on the floor, a position comfortable for him as he assumed it several times a day, and watched Brown flop on the floor as the change took place. Hopefully he wouldn't experience side effects coming out of it. Examining the apple in his hand, Brown turned it over so the clean side faced him. Held carefully, it looked as though no damage had been done to the fruit at all, but his fingers told him the truth, and he could feel the wet pulp on the other side.

Trouble was flicking small pebbled off the floor and listening as they rattled when they fell. Jonathan scooted over to sit next to him and leaned in slightly. "Trouble." He began.

"Yeah?"

"Who is Slime anyway?"

"Oh, he's the reason we came. Apparently Brown is a new friend of Slime's, and when Brown got bit Slime came to us for help."

"A new friend, huh?" Jonathan mused, thinking back to when the farmer came to Jonathan with questions regarding Spawn. Several dots were slowly connecting in the bald priest's mind, but if what he assumed was true he should probably keep quiet. Spawn did not take lightly to being found out, at least Jonathan didn't think they should. He wondered if Brown knew. After all the farmer had asked him first, but would Slime still be around if Brown knew? Things were quickly becoming complicated and Jonathan rubbed his temples.

"So…" Jonathan said some time later, the silence and agitated groans of Brown getting to him. "How did you all come to know each other?"

"Chase and Trouble saved my life." Slime said without opening his eyes. Jonathan looked over at him questioningly but he didn't respond. Chase, however, saw his glance and punched Trouble in the shoulder.

"Oh, sorry." Trouble said. His gaze was wide and blank, and Jonathan felt an eerie chill run down his spine when the man turned his head in the direction Jonathan's voice had come from. It wasn't necessarily the way his eyes looked, it was more the feeling of being watched without being seen.

"Okay, so when we found Slime, he had just entered a big city. Turnabal, I think it's name was." He began, his eyes staring unseeing into the distance. "Chase and I had been there for some time. Either way, Slime did something to get into trouble with the guard, and when we met him he had been on the run for more than a day.

"Slime had no idea what he was doing." Trouble laughed. "We had to guide him through about half the basics."

"I wasn't that bad!" Slime protested, eyes still closed.

"You were close." Trouble snickered.

"What basics?" Jonathan wondered. This caused a start from Slime, a cough from Chase and a strange face from Trouble.

"Just things like city life." Trouble improvised smoothly. "After we left the city, we-"

"I think that's enough." Slime interrupted, standing and dusting off his pants. "Brown, you okay?" Jonathan realized that during their conversation Brown had stopped moving. Rising to his feet Jonathan came to stand a short distance from Slime. The villager looked okay, his skin was a normal color again.

"Urghh… help?" Brown stirred and flopped a hand against the stone. "What happened?"

"Good to have you back." Jonathan remarked. Chase flipped the lever and Slime entered the cell to help Brown to his feet.

"Father Johhgh… what are you doing here?" Brown looked at the cell in confusion and allowed Slime to lead him out. He gurgled a bit, as if his voice was still adjusting.

"Curing you." Jonathan remarked. "You scared me for a minute. I'm lucky that Chase and Trouble let me come."

"Who?" Brown asked, furrowing his brow.

"Later." Trouble waved a hand. "We need to get out of here."

When the party emerged from the dank cave the sun low in the sky and Slime suggested they all take Brown home and shelter in his barn, except for Jonathan who would remain with the recovering farmer. On the way they explained carefully to Brown what he had been through, and Brown seemed to recall memories. He didn't like to talk about them.

Jonathan looked up at the slowly darkening sky, the shadows long streaks of violet that crept forward to consume the reddened grass. Soon the mobs would be out. Suddenly he noticed a low-flying shape, like that of a bird. It was coming towards them quickly and, and soon Jonathan noticed it descending.

Slime and Chase had noticed the bird as well, which appeared to be a hawk with broad wings and a gleaming red tail. It dove towards the ground and suddenly flared its wings, which suddenly became arms as an eighteen-year-old youth landed in a crouch position, grinning madly.

"Chase! Trouble!" He blurted out. The boy, almost a man, had fluffy auburn hair and two hawk's feathers tied with beads behind his right ear. He wore a cream tunic and brown leggings, with moccasins that scuffed the dirt as he stood up.

"Who are you?" Slime questioned, shooting a black-eyed glare at the new acquaintance. The stranger spun on his heels and glared accusingly at Slime.

"The name's Hawk, I'll have you know. Who are you?" He growled.

"Slimeball." Slime took a hand out of his pocket and stuck it forward. Hawk eyed it a moment before shaking vigorously.

"Ohh I've heard of you. You're in the archives that Forest reads. Speaking of," Hawk turned back to the duo who were standing silently. "You're Chase and Trouble, right? Forest described you to me, and I think you're the only man within several miles who's completely blind." The last statement was directed at Trouble, who nodded slowly.

"Yes, that's us." Trouble agreed. "And you must be Forest's latest apprentice, but I thought there was another?"

"Oh, Falcon's back at base with Forest." Hawk explained. "He sent me to fetch you. He needs you right away." Hawk's chest puffed with pride now that his message was delivered.

"What does he need us for?" Trouble asked. The shapeshifter shrugged. "That's all he told me, just that he needed you. You and any spawn I found along the way."

"So you are all Spawn. I thought so." Jonathan blurted out before he could think. Suddenly all eyes were on him, and he fought not to sink into his robes. Apparently everyone had forgotten he'd been standing right there. There was a groan from Slime, who cast spiteful look in Hawk's direction before he turned towards the house.

"Well, it looks like we have quite a bit of talking to do."


	10. Boring Conversation

Hey guys, sorry for the wait. You see, I got back, and then I was braindead, then I left town _again,_ and I tried to take a break by writing a small one-shot, but it turned out it wasn't as small as I was planning and I couldn't get the dialogue quite right, so I abandoned that and came back to bring you another chapter! :) Enjoy. (Woooh! Ten chapters! That's the farthest I've gotten on… anything!)

Also, quick note, no offense to any noobs out there. Just saying so ahead of time. Slime does not like people.

 **I DO NOT OWN MINECRAFT, ONLY MY ORIGINAL CHARACTERS.**

 **Boring Conversation**

"Alright." Slime slapped a hand on Brown's rather large dining table, eyeing everyone seated around it. "Let's start at the beginning. You:" Slime turned to Jonathan. "What are you doing here?"

"I-I thought it was obvious." Jonathan sputtered, startled at being put on the spot.

"Well I wanna hear it again." Shrugging, Jonathan repeated what he had said several hours earlier. "I came because Brown is a good friend of mine and I wanted to make sure he'd be okay."

Slime looked like he was ready to interrogate, but was interrupted by Trouble. "What about you, Slime?" He said. "What _have_ you been up to here? I thought you lived several chunks north." At this comment Slime's face turned a brilliant shade of crimson and the entire table stared at him expectantly. Slowly, ever so slowly, he sank into his chair until you could only see his face.

"Fine." Slime grumbled. "I was headed for the jungle because I ran out of cocoa beans, and had trouble with mobs on the way. Let's say that Brown's barn is very comfortable."

"Until you blew it up." Brown remarked quietly. At this, snickering started, slowly grew, and soon enough Hawk, Chase and Trouble were all laughing uproariously. Chase began to rap on the table's surface with his knuckles.

"You blew up his barn?" Trouble translated, stifling his giggles.

"I fixed it!" Slime's face was now the vibrant color of ripe tomatoes, and he held his arms stiff at his sides in embarrassment.

"Yeah, 'fixed it.'" Hawk chimed in, his shoulders heaving as he chuckled.

" _Anyway._ " Jonathan intervened, seeing where this was headed. "I believe… Hawk, was it? You said something about a forest?"

"Forest." Hawk corrected. Jonathan gave him a confused glance. "Um…"

"Forest is his name." Slime explained. "He's a good friend of ours… actually, I haven't met him personally, but Trouble and…"

"He was our mentor." Trouble intervened. "And currently he's mentoring Hawk and Falcon."

"Yeah!" Hawk was getting excited again. "You see, he sent me because-"

"Because what?" Slike interrupted yet again.

"Hey!" Hawk shot back, clearly offended. "If you'd just let me finish-"

"Well?"

"I _said_ , if you'd let me _finish..._ "

"Well, you finished! Keep talking!"

Jonathan watched this exchange with amusement in his eyes, then let his gaze slide over the rest of the table. If what he was picking up was correct, and he had no reason to doubt it wouldn't be, then everyone seated there were spawn. Farmer Brown and himself excluded, for obvious reasons.

It was surprising, considering all he had once thought he knew. The high priest was somewhat fascinated by the idea of spawn, their mysterious nature and elusive origin. In all the reading he'd done, they were portrayed as elusive demons that threatened the local populace, but now Jonathan was not so sure.

The villager glanced over at Brown, who staring at Chase with his head tilted thoughtfully. Chase seemed to be aware of this, but kept his gaze focused on Slime and Hawk, who were almost to blows over letting Hawk finish. If a spawn who had seemingly nothing to do with Brown would go out of his way to save the Farmer's life, then surely there was more than what met the eye?

"Fine." Slime took a deep breath, drawing Jonathan's attention back. "Go ahead."

" _Thank you._ " Hawk groaned. Clearing his throat importantly, he began, " _As I was saying…_ " Slime snorted but said nothing. "Forest told me to fetch you guys and any friends I found along the way and bring them back to him because he has something important to tell you."

"Which is…" Slime prompted.

Hawk shrugged. "Didn't tell me."

"Ughh!" Slime banged his head on the table and drew his hood up to cover his face. "More walking."

"Hawk." Trouble prompted, apparently translating for Chase again. "Where is Forest now?"

"At the Capital City inside the King's library." Hawk said matter-of-factly, and everybody stared.

"He's WHAT." Slime said.

"Yeah." Hawk nodded. "He's been reading in there for weeks. It's been really, really boring and me and Falcon can't go do stuff."

"HE BROUGHT NOOBS TO THE CAPITAL." Slime slammed his head on the table again with a jarring _thud._ "He. Brought. _Noobs._ To the CAPITAL."

"We're not noobs anymore!" Hawk huffed. "We have _experience._ "

"No. You don't." Slime facepalmed. "What was Forest thinking?"

"What's a noob?" Brown asked. Trouble looked startled, like he'd forgotten the farmer was there

"Fresh spawn, completely new to the world. The dimwits can hardly lift a block of wood." Slime explained. "Definitely NOT material for the capital."

"Like I said, we're not noobs anymore." Hawk protested.

"Have you been to the Nether?" Slime raised an eyebrow. Hawk only glowered. "Then you're still a noob. Congratulations."

"If 'Forest' is in the Capital City," Jonathan suggested, "shouldn't we be leaving immediately? It's quite a ways."

This stopped all conversation, and the newcomers glanced at each other uneasily. Slime coughed carefully. "I think you have the wrong 'we,' Mr…"

"Jonathan will be fine."

"Jonathan, you and Brown won't be coming with us."

"Why not?" The priest inquired.

"Because this will be dangerous!" Slime snarled. "And besides, we can't have…" He glanced at Brown uneasily. " _Commoners_ running around with us. It would only get us all caught."

"Now that we all know about all of you, Slime." Farmer Brown spoke up quietly, looking at the table. "Wouldn't it be better to have both of us where you can see us?"

"Ehh…" Slime glanced at Chase, who held his hands up in a 'don't look at me' gesture. "No offense, Brown… but… you'll slow us down… and don't you need time to recover?" Was it Jonathan's imagination, or was Slimeball being gentle with Brown?

"I just spent this whole conversation recovering. You know, it helps to actually have people around you once in awhile."

"Ehh… _fine._ " Slime put his head back on the table. "Get a good night's rest, we leave in the morning."

Not much later that night everyone began to find a place to sleep somewhere in the house. Brown had never had so many guests over in his life, but luckily the spawn turned out to be an adaptable bunch. Slime, Chase and Trouble all volunteered to sleep in the barn, after all Slime had been doing so for many weeks now.

"You could take the bed if you like." Brown offered as they sat on the couch behind Hawk, who was sitting in front of the hearth. The fire crackled merrily and offered a lovely, warm feeling to the simple wooden living room adjacent to the kitchen.

"No, I could never do that to you. Not after that ordeal." Jonathan waved him off. They sat in silence for a while, until Jonathan spoke up again. "Pardon my asking, but what was it like?"

"Hmm?"

"Being a zombie."

"Oh…" Brown closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them again, shuddering. "Awful. It's like… like… I don't know. You just can't control yourself. Your entire world is meat, and blood, and dark, and it's always cold…" He broke off abruptly.

"Sorry." Jonathan apologised. "I was just curious."

"You're okay." Brown smiled softly, his bald forehead crinkling. The zombies moaned outside, and Brown was sure that he heard a skeleton crash into the wall to his right. The bones rattled and clanked with a dry, hollow sound, moving away again.

"Father Jonathan?"

"You can just call me Jonathan here." The old priest smiled again.

"Why was the big one so quiet?"

"Who?"

"The big guy? Chestnut hair?"

"You must mean Chase." Hawk's voice made them both start, apparently he had been listening to every word they said. The auburn-haired boy talked without turning his head, and the feathers behind his ear danced with gusts from the flame. "He's deaf. Forest says he's a nice guy, though. Master lip-reader, as long as you're facing him he won't have a problem understanding you."

"Oh… thank you." Brown commented, glancing at Jonathan. Hawk shrugged.

"By the way Hawk, where are you going to sleep?" Brown asked. It was a valid question, after all this was his house.

"I'm a bird, I sleep where I want to." Hawk grinned at his own statement. "G'night!" Suddenly there was a flurry of matter and in place of the young man was a hawk with a bright red tail. It bobbed its head once and flew up on top of a cabinet to roost.


	11. Friendship

Muahahaahaa! Greetings, traveler! Welcome, come, and view my latest creation! If you don't, things could get very bad for _you._ Muahahahahahaaaaa!

*Cough.* Uh… yeah. Sorry I've been gone. By the way, school started. Good so far. I caught my sister's cold, turns out one man's cold is another's fanfiction chapter. Updates will be slower, but I promise I'm not abandoning this thing. I'm very excited about where this is going :3 Either way, Follow, favorite, review, they all help. Most of all, enjoy!

I DO NOT OWN MINECRAFT, ONLY MY ORIGINAL CHARACTERS.

 **Friendship**

"SCAWRAWK, SCAWRAWK, SCAWRAWK!" Jonathan jolted awake and fell off Farmer Brown's modest couch where he had been sleeping. Rubbing his head, he used an arm to push himself off the floor and squint at Hawk, who was flying circled about the room, making a ruckus.

"Scawrawk, scawrawk!" He shrieked, doing a loop over Farmer Brown, who had stumbled down the hallway wielding a pitchfork, before he swooped over the smoking coals of the hearth and presumably flew up the chimney. They could still hear him shrieking as he woke up the others in the barn.

"I am never sleeping in a house with him again." Jonathan remarked, taking Brown's proffered hand. The farmer just grunted in agreement. Moving outside, Brown went to stabbing a zombie sheltering under the lee of the house with his pitchfork, leaving Jonathan to observe the chaos unfolding outside the barn.

"CATCH THAT PIGEON!" The barn door swung slightly and Hawk emerged still in bird form, followed closely by Slime. Hawk was obviously having a grand time, hovering just above Slime's outstretched hands. Still screaming, Slime leaped the bird swooped and clawed at the air, about to turn the corner of the barn.

Suddenly, Chase shot from behind the barn wall, where he had set up an ambush. Tackling Hawk to the ground, he laughed maniacally as the shifter turned back into a person.

"Get off me you fool." Hawk sputtered, waving vaguely with his hands. Slime was grinning widely. "How's it feel, Pigeon?" he called.

"I am not a pigeon!" The shifter shouted.

"Pidgeon." Trouble chuckled, coming out of the barn. Waving a hand at Jonathan and Brown, he asked, "You ready?"

"How did you know we were here?" Jonathan called.

"Brown hasn't washed in a week!" Turning in surprise, Jonathan was in time to witness the farmer's face turn a vivid shade of red.

"I'll go and get my things." He said cooly, returning inside the house.

Half an hour later, everyone had packed and was ready to go. Two days after that, Jonathan was rocking gently on the gray horse he had brought before to help his friend. Slime was seated with his back against Jonathan's, watching their rear for robbers.

Hawk flew lazy circles overhead; being in the air allowed for much faster travel than a walking horse, but he had to hold back to allow the others to catch up. Chase and Trouble both sat atop a white mare, while Jonathan rode his donkey.

When they arrived at the riverside city a plan was quickly discussed at the side of the road. Bret and Luna, Chase and Trouble's mare, would find a comfortable home in a rental stable for the next few days (the spawn and Father Jonathan had all assured Brown they would be more than happy to pay for his share) while the natives (again, Chase and his brother) rented a boat big enough to take them all upstream. Slime insisted on waiting by the bank, and, much to Hawk's chagrin, ordered the newbie to come with him.

"This is _boorring._ " Hawk groaned, plunking a small stone into the wide waters of the river. They had been sitting for approximately fifteen minutes, which was more than Slime had initially given the kid credit for.

"It's only been fifteen minutes." Slime responded absentmindedly. Out of the corner of his eye he watched the little-over-a-teen pull rushes as he lay on his stomach, half hanging over the water's edge.

There was a moment of silence, then rustling, a sharp _thwack,_ and a sharp cry of pain. Slime instantly produced his sword, only to see his self-appointed charge sucking his thumb as he glared at the reeds.

"Careful." The older spawn sighed, leaning back on the heels of his palms in the mud. It was cool and calming, shaded by a sapling willow.

"I was careful." Hawk muttered around his thumb. He looked like a toddler. A gnarly, red-haired toddler with a narrow face.

"Stop sucking that." Slime growled, grabbing Hawk's hand and pulling it from his mouth. He inspected the wound carefully, a paper cut at best, but produced a small length of cloth and wrapped it around the thumb. "There." He grunted, releasing Hawk to fiddle the bandaged thumb.

Another, precious minute of silence, and then:

"Do you think they'll be okay?"

"Hmm?" Slime glanced at Hawk in surprise. He was looking at the settlement downriver, a good three hundred yards from here.

"They'll come back, right?"

"Of course they will." He snorted. "It's only a trip to town. I thought you'd be used to the city by now."

Another moment of silence, then Hawk broke again. "Forest doesn't let us explore." Slime sat up again in surprise.

"Really?"

"Well, he does." Hawk continued. "But Falcon and I have to stay in animal form. Says so we won't get in trouble." Slime winced, that was why he'd asked the kid to come with him. "Forest was nice before, but now he's all bent up about those books in the library and he doesn't have time for us." Hawk turned big orange eyes on Slime. "The city's a scary place, Slimeball. There's a lot to see when nobody cares you're there."

"You can just call me Slime." Slimeball muttered, glancing back at the town for their ferry. Hawk's worried banter had made him realize that maybe the newbie wasn't as innocent as he seemed. He may have been a spawn, but as any creature goes, he was young, and probably scared. Nervous, at least.

"Hey, kid." Slime punched Hawk, who had lapsed into another moment of reflective silence, gently in the shoulder. "You like games?"

Hawk glanced up, his orange eyes alight again with the fire that Slime was starting to enjoy. "A game?"

"We've got about five minutes until they-" he pointed to where the small sailboat carrying their company had come into view, "-row all the way up here. Person who gets the most wood blocks before they land wins." Hawk's eyes lit even brighter, and he grinned mischievously. "You're on!"


	12. To the Capital!

...Guys, I have to level with you.

I got busy, left this behind for a few years, and then got back into writing, and for the past few months have fantasized about bringing this back without any real action...

...because every time I reread this I cringe. XD I'm not rewriting it, it's past the point of no return. However, with huge thanks to the people who have rediscovered, followed and reviewed this story despite its inactivity, and to writingisrelaxing for being so enthusiastic about it, I present to you, SPAWN CONTINUED (AND HOPEFULLY IMPROVED)!

 **To the Capital!**

The little party traveled many days downriver, camping in the boat and watching zombies eye them hungrily from shore. Between the villager's packs and the Spawn's inventories (they had explained this concept to Brown and Jonathan along the way,) they were in no rush for food and most, if not Hawk, were content to watch the water slide by.

Jonathan sat on a low bench next to Farmer Brown, his neck craned to see the sun. At the oars were Hawk and Slimeball, Slimeball because he was the strongest and Hawk to keep him occupied. Brown was watching Chase, who was sitting next to Trouble. The pair were going through a sketchbook of Chase's, the former holding Trouble's hand and guiding his finger over the lines.

Not for the first time, he wondered exactly what they had gotten themselves into.

Over the course of several days the river took them almost right up to the walls of the Capital city. Over land it might have taken a week, and without the spawn it might have taken two; Jonathan marveled at the time they were making.

Slime docked the boat in the shelter of a high bank, where they couldn't be seen from the walls.

"Alright, Hawk," he said, "Go get Forest and show him where we're waiting." Hawk looked like he might object to being ordered around, but managed to hold himself back, and with a flurry of movement he was off.

"Brown, Jonathan, you're on lookout." Slime said. "Chase, Trouble," he waved his arms to catch the deaf man's attention, "you help me build a shelter."

After a few hours a decently dry hole had been dug into the rise that hid the group from view of the city, facing away from the walls. Using a little bit of spawn magic, the dirt cave had a functioning door that didn't need to be measured or cut; it just fit. Jonathan marveled at this; spawn were looked upon as bad luck, but he could think of many places that would benefit from such building skill.

After sunset someone came and knocked on the door. Jonathan heard a small _squeak_ and saw Farmer Brown flinch out of the corner of his eye; he sympathised. Only zombies called at these hours.

Trouble got up and shuffled his way toward the door, one arm outstretched. He put an ear to the wood and called, "What's a creeper's greatest fear?"

"U pwoer fuor bow wtih u oleoct en teh sirntg," came the reply. This got everyone's attention, but Jonathan felt that only he and Brown were the ones confused.

"Close enough." Trouble said, and opened the door.

In walked a man with a narrow chin, short black hair and a dark green jacket.


	13. Summons

Alright, we've dusted off the old plot ideas, rehashed some of them, we're ready to roll now.

Also I got sick for a week.

And for another week.

And got my braces off.

And finished high school.

My comeback may have been poorly timed.

Nonetheless, ONWARD!

 **Summons**

"Forest! Good to see you." Trouble gave the man a big bear hug, which was happily returned. "How ya been?"

"Guud." Forest looked over Trouble's shoulder, and saw Brown and Jonathan. "Vlligaries?" Everyone looked at Slime, who shrugged, and then looked at the two villagers. Brown raised his hands in surrender, and Forest shrugged and moved on.

"I dnot konw yu." He said, gesturing to Slime. Slime got to his feet and offered a hand. "No, but I've heard of you. My name is Slime."

They shook, and Forest said "comm," leaving through the door.

As the others filed out Jonathan jumped up and offered his hand to Brown. As Brown stood up he pulled Jonathan close and whispered, "It's probably best if we turn back now. We're not cut out for this."

"This is the chance of a lifetime though!" Jonathan urged him. Studying the reclusive spawn had always been a passion of his, but studying in the field was a dream he'd never gotten to do. He could feel the answers to long mysterious questions hovering right outside the door. "We'll be alright, if it gets dangerous we'll turn back."

Brown looked uncertain, but he sighed and said, "Well, I don't want to walk home alone." He and Jonathan departed the little shack to follow the others.

Forest led them into a narrow single-file tunnel that, Jonathan noticed, let toward the walls of the city.

The passage was narrow, and they walked single-file past torches that stuck out of the wall and singed their ears. The tunnel ducked and weaved and twisted until Jonathan knew for sure if they dug up he'd have no idea where they came from. Brown looked ready to jump out of his skin, and nearly did so when they passed a wall where flowing water could be heard.

Finally, when Jonathan was sure Brown was about to pass out from the stuffy tunnel, they reached a door that Forest kicked open to let the group through. They all filed into a small underground room. The walls, floor and ceiling were made of stone, tucked in a corner were three beds, a table against one wall and several chests haphazardly thrown together on another. Flames licked the outer edges of the mouth of a furnace, and the whole room smelled of cooked fish.

"Mkae ylesvoures camoftroleb." Forest said, pulling out a few chairs from under the table. Brown tugged on Slime's shirt and whispered something in his ear. Slime shook his head. "I don't know what he said."

"Make yourselves comfortable." Trouble translated, feeling his way around. Chase grabbed his hand and rested it on a chair; Trouble patted his arm gratefully.

"So you can understand him?" Brown asked. "How?"

"Like I said, Chase and I were his apprentices at one point. Don't ask any more questions." Forest was looking mildly offended, his eyes flitting back and forth in the conversation.

"Where is Hawk?" Slime asked, sensing the tension. Forest shrugged and pointed upward. Nobody bothered to ask for further explanation, though Trouble seemed confused by the silence.

"So why did you bring us here, Forest?" Slime asked, hands in his pockets. "It had better be a good." This must have jogged the man's memory, because his eyes lit up and he let out a little "ah!" sound. "Un moemnt." He said, and he hit a bare patch of stone. There must have been a button there, as the wall opened up to reveal a ladder that he quickly leaped onto and climbed away.

Forest returned a few minutes later, seemingly empty-handed. This was proved false when he summoned the power of the spawn's inventory and threw what seemed like three dozen books onto the table.

Jonathan had a very bad feeling. Forest began to rifle through them, but Chase pushed Trouble in Forest's direction. Trouble put a hand on the spawn's shoulder.

"Forest, the concise version, please."

"Agh, _fiiiine._ " Forest growled, and Slime, Brown and Jonathan all started, exchanging glances. That was the first phrase they had understood.

Trouble translated for the group as Forest explained the summons. In short, it amounted to: "The End Portal has been activated, and he thinks Shadow is back."

Of course, almost half the people in the room had no idea what that meant.


End file.
